


Wild Night with Baby

by twowritehands



Series: Helluva Woman [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, fluffy pwp, sex on the car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:30:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5239835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One little ghost case shouldn't keep Dean out all night helping Donna, but it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Night with Baby

"Whoa, hang on. You went on a date with Donna? When?” Dean asks his oldest friend. They are outside, sweating in the hot sun, as Bobby’s old bulldozer roars in the background. Sam is dragging junk cars into Cas’ specified layout. The bee field is starting to look real good. Flower beds are thriving out of the oldest cars which Cas has filled with rich soils. The old camper that the new deputy and Claire live in is parked in the shaded woodline. The last remnants of Bobby’s burned house have been carted away, leaving significant square footage for more beehives, which means more flower beds.

Castiel doesn’t even look up from his meticulously drawn blueprints for the honey fields. His beekeeper outfit is making glistening beads of sweat appear across his forehead and neck, which he doesn’t seem to notice. “I did. A couple of weeks ago. It was a lovely evening.”

Dean peels off his work gloves, asks as casually as he can manage. “So you, uh, you get any of that action?”

Blue eyes finally leave the clipboard. “That, I believe, was her intention. But as you know, Dean, I dislike sexual intercourse with any gender.”

“Yeah, but come on, it’s Donna,” he says before he can help himself. A suspicious squint. Not good. Dean looks down at his gloves--over to the bulldozer, even the humming bee-hives, looking for something that needs to be done so he can leave.

“She did mention having slept with you. I had almost forgotten that.”

“Oh?” Dean’s insides have lept into his throat--she’s telling people about me???--but instinct has kicked in, and he plays it cool as a cucumber. ”Yeah, buddy. She’s a helluva woman; she can knock a guy’s socks off. I’m tellin’ ya, you should’ve taken her up on the offer.”

Cas’ knuckles are white on the clipboard. “I’ve already told you, Dean. I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Whatever. Just can’t believe you left her hangin’.”

“I have little doubt that she had any trouble finding a willing partner. She is adept at hunting criminals, monsters, and men.”

With a weird tightness in his gut, Dean grunts appreciatively and wiggles back into his gloves. Donna certainly can have her pick of guys. But he’s hopping her run at Cas means that her options are limited. Maybe that means he’ll be tapped again. That’s all it is. Just a desire to get off the bench. See some action. Yeah.

Dean totally believes that as he hefts the wheelbarrow of mulch and heads in the direction of the newly planted car.

-X-

“Think you can help, Jodes?” Donna asks into the phone.

“Listen, I’d love to drive out and spend all night diggin’ up graves to burn with you, Donna, but I’m swamped on my end. Castiel has taken a week’s vacation to do some yard work and without him the whole damn place is falling apart! Apparently he’s implemented a new filing system without telling anyone. I’m so sorry, but can I call you back?”

“Sure! Sure! No, you go ahead. That’s fine.” Donna assures. The South Dakota sheriff hangs up. Donna frowns at her phone. Well bang goes that plan. Now she really does have to call Dean. And that’s a little weird. She hasn’t spoken to him since the heat-of-the-moment call that was beginning to end phone-sex. When he answers the phone now a part of him, no matter what, is gonna be thinking it’s another one of those calls. And then it’s going to be nothing but boring ghost business and there’s gonna be that awkward pause...and…

“Oh, just--” she gripes out loud, dialing the number fast. “Just act professiona---HEY!” she cries, cutting herself off when Dean answers first ring. See? Caller ID, he got excited, hoping for phone sex, probably. She actually forgets why she called for a second.

“Donna? What’s up?” he sounds normal. Raspy, maybe a little breathless. Some loud machinery is going on behind him, so she knows he isn’t, ya know. “Catch ya at a bad time? Sounds like you’re in a junk yard.”

He laughs. “Yes and no. Converting one to a bee garden. We’re in Sioux Falls, helpin’ Cas.”

“OH!”  _Jody, you coulda said something_! “Great! I was afraid you’d be too far away again. Need help with a multiple haunting we got just outside of town. Interested? I can make it worth your time,” she adds in a semi sultry voice.

“Baby, I’m there,” he says, subtext promising he has time to hang around afterwards. She pops right up onto her toes. “Okay, then!”

-X-

Dean digs two massive six foot holes in the time it takes her to get to the bottom of one old grave. But she’s still new to this. Sweating, labored breathing, she mops her forehead. “Whew! It’s building my biceps for sure!”

“It’s all a hunter needs. Sam thinks he’s gotta run and eat salads and all that health nut crap. Not me. I say no sense in fighting your natural shape. So long as you’re strong under that cushion,” he frowns and pats his belly.

“Yah.”

Her shovel hits box. Dean climbs in and helps lift the lid. It reeks. Donna chokes. Dean gives her a lift out of the hole--a confident hoist of her right knee, a push at her foot as she crawls into cold grass. The white tank she’d worn will be ruined with mud and grass.

Dean scrambles up behind her. They pour in salt and lighter fluid and set the family of three up in flames. It doesn’t take long for the bodies to perish. Donna barely has her breath back before it’s time to fill the graves back in. She stretches first and then sets to work with her chin forward. Donna was never one to shy away from hard work, and when it comes to helping people--even the dumb kids who played with a ouija board in the graveyard--she can’t say no.

“Good work tonight,” Dean says an hour later, once they’ve swept the site for EMF and found no trace of the spirits. She’d done all her homework, had everything all sorted and knew the bones would do the job. She had really just needed the extra muscle to get the graves open and closed before sunrise.

“Thank you for diggin’. I couldn’t have done it all myself.”

“Ah,” he waves it aside. “Anytime, Donna. You know that. What are teams for, huh?”

They climb into the Impala. The engine roars and the lights flood the sea of old stones. Dean drums his fingers on the wheel a second before he says, “Hey, it’s a gorgeous night. Wanna do something?”

“Yah,” she says without thinking. Of course she wants to do something. Dean grins, lopsided and adorable as he pulls out of the graveyard. “A quick pit stop then, and I’ll show you what I mean.”

He stops at a gas station, but not to fill up. She takes the chance to clean up in the restroom. Dirt and smoke residue wash down the drain. She makes sure her hair isn’t a total disaster, even though her tank top is as bad as she’d feared, then meets him back out at the car. He has filled an old green cooler with ice and beers.

A cocky little grin and they hit the road again. He turns down some old back road. They park in a field mostly surrounded by trees. No house in sight, nothing but the lonely stretch of road they’d traveled down to show that people live on this planet.

“Do this all the time,” he grunts into the silence once the engine is dead. The way his eyes cut up directs Donna’s attention to the night sky, and suddenly she understands what they are doing out here in the middle of nowhere.

“Yah?”

“Cheapest form of entertainment, I guess,” he says, hefting the cooler onto the roof of the car. “Hop up. Get comfty. Hard night’s work gets a hard morning’s rest.”

They toast the beer cans. Dean looks a little sheepish as he sips away the foam. “Guess I shouldn’t be drinkin’ in a car with a cop.”

“You’re not in the car. You’re not driving it. Guess we’re parked here for the night,” she says lowly, a little shrug. Dean grins and takes a heartier chug. Donna pops her can and sips. She hasn’t ever sat and looked at the stars before, and she’s curious to see the draw in doing so ritually like this.

Must be a very peaceful lifestyle, living on the road, no one to tie you down, hard work that you can be proud of, quiet beautiful nights like this to look forward to. Yeah. She could see why the boys lived like this when they didn’t have to.

“Cas told me something interesting ‘bout ya the other day,” she says to start conversation.

“Cas, huh?” he grins, “I heard you two went on a date.”

“Just had a little wine and talked. I didn’t know you were bisexual.”

He sips and slowly lowers his beer can; gives her a half glance that’s as casual as it is guarded. “That a problem?”

“No. Just a little odd for me, ya know, to learn something about a guy after having sex with him. And here we’ve done it twice.”

"One and half,” he corrects with a playful waggle of his hand. She snorts and says, “one and a half. Still. Never did it in that order before.” She sips and stares at the stars and tries to act like her confession isn’t embarrassing or at all crippling to the New Donna image she’d decided to maintain with Dean.

This is why she doesn’t drink much, even though half a can isn’t what’s making her spill the beans tonight. Her date with Cas has just started an itch she needs to scratch.

“You know, it wasn’t until after Sammy went off to college that I started dating boys. Guys. That part’s always been a little on the down low. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. It’s just not something we talk about.”

“Ya know, somebody told me once that it’s okay to put a part of yourself back in the box when you’re done.”

Dean grins over at her. “Exactly.”

She winks, and they lay back and look at the stars until they’ve reached the bottom of their first cans. Dean stores them in the cooler, and for some odd reason--maybe the buzz, maybe her own reckless urge to make the night even better--that little act of no-littering really turns her on.

With the cooler on the roof of the car, there’s nothing between them. She inches closer and runs the pads of her fingers along the inside seam of his jeans. He goes so instantly pliant with this soft little breathy laugh and lopsided grin. Donna follows him down to lean back on the cold windshield, rolling to cage his leg with her own, pin him and kiss him.

He wraps his arms around her tight, hands in her hair and across her lower back. He lifts a knee between her thighs and pushes his pelvis up against her. He is already hard. She goes breathless and pushes back, grinding on his leg. The stirring little shoots of pleasure draws a long sigh from her lungs.

With her eyes closed and a focus on grinding in circles that excite her clit through her clothes, Donna feels it all start to drop away. She feels that new part of herself, that wild girl that’s getting bolder by the second, unfurl with a wicked grin.

The hood pops beneath them, Dean surges against her, pushes her back, slides to his feet at the fender, drags her closer to him. The hood pops again as Donna swings her feet around, caging him between her legs, but as they come together again, she withholds her lips.

“Worried about the car?”

“Hell no,” he says hoarsely. His hands pull her closer, his breath is shallow, his eyes pleading. He might as well be tied up again; he’s waiting for permission to do more. Donna grabs his belt and caresses his neck with her other hand. “Go on,” she whispers, “see how wet I am.”

Dean’s eyes blink slowly and his laugh is more like a shake down to his core. She feels it between her knees and beneath her hands as she tears into his jeans. Dark underwear like last time, plump ass and hard erection jumping to meet her hand. So responsive.

He undoes the buttons of her jeans, lingers at the mid-night blue satin he finds. “Ooh, mama,” he moans.

His fingers dip into her folds and he growls at the slickness he finds. She kicks away her tennis shoes, lifts up as he drags her jeans away entirely. The hood of the car is freezing through the thin satin of her panties, so she perches on the very edge, wrapped around his big warm body.

Dean moans her name, velvet hands sliding up and down her legs. His kisses work from her jaw and neck straight into her cleavage, hands slipping beneath her thin layers up her spine. One bra strap falls to an elbow, she flips her hair and arches into him. “Mm, get inside me,” she orders.

The condom is in his jacket pocket this time. He could have toyed with it any number of the times he had hidden his hands while they worked. So it’s been on his mind all night too. She’s glad.

He slides against her wetness, slicking the rubber and teasing her a little bit. She tightens her legs as a silent demand, so he lines up and pushes inside slowly. Donna buries her face in his neck, fisting his jacket.

Dean is going crazy over those blue fucking panties. He’s been fixated on red, and now suddenly there’s a new color in the world. He can’t pick a favorite; she looks so sexy in both. And once he’s inside her, he can’t even think. She feels so good he is beginning to regret this standing up thing he went for--his knees are getting weak. He says her name again.

She leans back on her hands, starts rocking her hips against him. Dean steadies himself against the car, hikes her thigh a little higher and starts to show her everything he’s been aching to show her since he broke that bed to lay hands on her.

Donna gasps and squeals with pleasure, fisting his shirt and dragging him in for a kiss, then moaning and biting her lip, flipping her hair. She’s a wild thing, and the moon shines bright on her skin, the stars dance in her eyes, and the night shimmers on that dark satin slipping under his hands. “Fuck,” he moans, pounding harder.

Hips jerked clear out from under her, Donna reclines across the hood. “Oh, yah!” She stretches over Baby like a cat, writhing a little bit, shouting up at the moon as his piston thrusts make her arch her back, spasming. He’s not even close to being done. He slows down, every slide causing her body to twitch with sensory overload. She sits up and wraps herself around him so tight he can hardly breathe. “Don’t stop,” she says. A sweat has broken out over her skin, a thin sheen, salty under his lips. Her breath is ragged as he focuses on going slow. Her sounds taper off from edge-of-pain back to pleasure, and Dean can feel his end coming near.

He looks into her face. “Gonna come one more time?” he asks. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted, she nods as she drags a hand through her own hair. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” she orders. Dean sets his teeth and does his best. He watches the way it erupts on her face as she lets herself have it. A scream that bounces off the moon.

Her second spasm visibly shakes her body and he finishes so hard he’ll count it as his third death. But he doesn’t go anywhere. He stays right here, attached to Donna, because there is nowhere else. Everything is still. And then, when she runs her hands up his chest, she brings him back to life.

Expelling a breath, he laughs weakly. “Best I’ve ever had.”

“Me too,” she says, a little dazed. Dean pushes her hair out of her eyes, gives her a smile and a kiss to the nose.

It's no joke. Donna has believed all this time that she's just not a multiple orgasm kind of girl. Now kablooey--New Donna just blew that old excuse to smithereens. Her entire body is twitching and her heart is banging like cymbals, spreading a rich burn through her chest like a crashing ring of sound. Makes her feel a little sick, actually. She piles her hair on top of her head and hangs her hands up there to cool off. Dean meets her eye so she gives him a wicked grin.

Laughter bubbles out of Dean, this half giddy sound, so boyish and sweet it swells her heart. They lean into one another, foreheads together, and she caresses his strong jaw.

"Hmm, that was exactly what I needed."

"Me too." he grunts. She pushes him back, a sharp intake of air when he slides out if her too-sensitive body. She's never been used this hard before, even by herself. Those legendary solo nights tend to have big finishes but only one.

"Here," he has done away with the condom, tucked himself back into his pants, and found her jeans.

Donna's entire body is covered in chill bumps and she's starting to shiver. The night isn't that cold--weird. Dean gently guides both ankles into the pant legs and she wriggles into them. Feet planted on the cool grass, shaky fingers fumbling with zipper and button, Donna appreciates the way Dean busies himself by shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it around her shoulders. It is as warm as an oven and smells like Dean--hints of gasoline, dirt, and aftershave.

"Thanks," she says.

An alarm is sounding in her head; she feels her crush going seriously out of control--good gravy he made her come twice, he's like a god--a part of her wants some kind of assurance that this is real and can last. He moves around to the back of the car and starts rummaging around so deep in the trunk that he nearly disappears into it. When he emerges he has as few tightly rolled up blankets.

She makes herself comfortable in the spacious backseat, fighting back her crush with the part of her that isn't over her divorce. That part, the one that wants to be New Donna, starts talking.

“Oh, man, I tell ya what,” she says as they shut the car doors against the chill of the night and settle in. “Nothing like a double whammy to reboot the system, right?”

“Damn straight!” Dean cries from the front seat, and twists around to face her, “and, uh, double whammies are my specialty.”

“Don't I know that for sure,” she winks.

He blushes and turns away from her. She gets a rush of tingles but corks them. She masks it by laying down and curling up under the scratchy blanket. It smells like gun oil and dirt but she loves that smell.

Dean stretches across the front, the passenger side window rolled down so his booted feet can stick out the window.

“Never had a friend to cut loose with like this before…” she muses aloud, staring up at the interior roof of the car, “it’s nice to just have fun with no rules or expectations. That's all my marriage was. Rules and expectations…”

Realizing she is babbling about personal stuff she corks it again. Get a grip, Hanscum!

His voice has a grin in it, though, as if her confession is welcome. “Anytime, Donna. Like you said, it's a reboot. Good for the system. Can't go too long without.”

“Oh, like I'm gonna believe you have ever gone too long without.”

“Well, I am pretty charming,” he has gone on his elbow to look over the back of the seat and wags his eyebrows down at her. He looks like a cocky alligator flirting with her from the water. She laughs.  He sobers up with a shrug, dropping back down out of sight. “but you know we’ve all had our bad times. This kinda thing--good sex pretty regular--keeps the bad at bay, you know?”

“I'm beginning to see that, yah,” she mumbles, dropping her eyes closed with a yawn. Night bugs and owls fill the silence with serenity.

“Takes me back,” Dean mumbles.

“Hm?”

“Me and Sammy would sleep in the car all the time growing up.” he chuckles, “with the same damn blankets, too.”

“No. Really?”

He grunts. “All Sammy ever did when he was little was whine that they were too scratchy.”

She grins and runs a hand over the thin blanket. “I love blankets like this. My granny had them. We’d curl up together in one on her porch swing and she’d tell me stories about when candy cost a penny.”

Dean chuckles, “Dad would tell Sammy to can it, ‘cos these blankets are army issued, ” Dean pitches his voice lower than ever, “be grateful you aren’t in the Marines. They'd make you do a hundred pushups for complaining, he’d say.”

“Sounds harsh.”

“Ah, he was doing his best. And he tried, you know. We got Sammy a soft fleece blanket once but he left it at a motel so…” he chuckles.

Donna’s eyelids droop but her smile stays as wide as ever. “Ya know I didn’t believe you fellas when you said you grew up in this car. But she sure is roomy enough. I’ve never been so comfortable in a backseat.”

“Damn straight,” Dean says proudly, words slightly slurred with sleep. “That’s my Baby.”

Donna chuckles fondly at car-lovers and after a few seconds of peaceful silence, they are both asleep.

-X-

 The next day and a hundred miles away, Dean and Sam are on their way to check out demon omens. He had dropped Donna off at hers and picked Sam up in Sioux Falls in the wee hours of dawn. Now he’s been driving ever since. A hundred miles looking right at the place on the hood where she stretched out as he pounded into her. Dean wants to smile and squirm, but he’s doing a pretty decent job at masking all that.

Then sunlight hits the Impala windshield just right and illuminates the smudge of a handprint. By its size alone he knows immediately that it's Donna's. She must have made it when they were fooling around and she rolled over on top of him.  He shivers. Gets a little hard. Squirms and coughs and turns on the radio. Sam frowns at him, and his sharp observational skills draw his gaze to the spot Dean can’t stop looking at.

“What’s that smudge?” It is a valid question. Dean makes a point of cleaning his windows at every pit stop. He has even made a pit stop for the sole purpose of cleaning away bird droppings. It makes no sense for a smudge to be there all day.

“I dunno,” Dean grumbles as if it’s a nuisance that is bothering him but instantly he prefers to enjoy it for what it is. He can’t hide a smile and glances at his brother. “Actually, I do. It’s a hand print.”

Sam looks intrigued. “From when?”

“Last night,” Dean says, clucking his tongue importantly as he sits up higher in his seat. Sam snorts and looks out the window, shaking his head. “You had sex on the hood of the car?”

“Ohman did I,” he says with a guttural laugh. Sam snorts again, trying not to picture anything.

“With Donna?” he fact-checks.

Dean nods. “Helluva woman,” he adds a low whistle and then looks at the handprint like it is an affectionate pet he is willing to adopt. “This smudge ain’t hurtin’ nothin’.”

“Whatever,” Sam laughs. “You won’t be able to keep it there.” Sure enough, at the next pit stop, the charm of the oil print has run dry, and Dean rubs the soapy squeegee left to right up and down and then scrapes it all away in a serpentine drag to the edge.

Sam exits the mini-mart with Dean’s junk food and laughs. “Told you.”

“Shut up,” Dean grouses. “Bitch.”

“Jerk….she’s got weird taste,” Sam says once they are on the road again. “First Cas now you?”

“Other way around,” Dean confesses around beef jerky, “Me then Cas then back to me. And Cas didn’t bone her. Obviously.”

Sam frowns as he adjusts his timeline, then chortles when he connects ‘Bold Blonde who tied him up’ to Donna.

Dean glances at him. “Oh I get it. You’re wonderin’ if she’s gonna come after you.”

“No I’m not.” Sam says just a little too quickly; only Dean could have picked up on it. He beats the side of his fist lightly into Sam’s bicep. “Come on, dude.”

“All right. Maybe I’m wondering why she went back to you after Cas instead of trying me. But it’s no big deal. Seriously. That’s cool.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah. To be honest I can’t believe it either. Guess she found something she liked.”

“Just don’t screw it up.”

Dean scoffs. How could he possibly screw this up? It’s the perfect arrangement. Sam reads the scoff and shrugs. “Don’t do that thing where you get all paranoid for her safety and drive her off.”

“That’s not a thing I do. I did it once. And it was Lisa and Ben who didn’t even know how to hold guns. This is Donna. Sheriff, cute but sexy, with a low center of gravity and strong enough to wrestle me to a bed. She’ll be fine.”

“She’ll outlive us all.” Sam prophesizes. Dean laughs and truly believes that.


End file.
